Wishing Star
by Eryn
Summary: A pre-Andromeda story which is a little different. I hope you enjoy it anyway


DISCLAIMER: Gene Roddenberry's Andromeda belongs to Tribune. I am just borrowing the characters to play with for a while.

A short pre-Andromeda story, which is something a little different. I hope you like it anyway. Enjoy.   
  


**Wishing Star**

**by Eryn Grant**

Darkness encompassed the refugee camp - the scuffling sounds of the night seeming to deafen Callum Harper as he looked up towards the sky. He couldn't see the stars he knew were there because of the gloomy veil of mist, smog and smoke that always hid their brightness from his view. 

Callum sighed to himself trying to remember the last time he had seen the stars clearly. He screwed up his eyes in thought, and it suddenly came to him - he had been a small boy, and his father had taken him and his two older brothers to a hillside by their home at nightfall. They had sat on the ground listening as their father had pointed out the stars and telling them what their mystical names were. As they were about to make their way down the hill, their father had looked up pointing out the brightest star in the sky - he told them it was a wishing star. Callum smiled at the memory recalling how every day he had run up the hill as night fell to make a wish. The wish had always been the same - that he would work and live amongst the stars when he was older. 

Callum slumped down on a fallen log straining his eyes upwards. His wishes never came true, and his life changed from the innocence of childhood to the harsh reality of adult life. He stared up into the murkiness longing to see just one star. Tonight, for some reason, it seemed important that he saw a star, just one. One that he could wish on. 

He sighed to himself. The stench of the camp assailed his nose, but he was used to it - they all were. Glancing around the camp distractedly, Callum regarded the cluster of small tatty huts that made up their homes. Not much too look at, filthy and shabby, but home nonetheless. 

Looking over his shoulder, he stared at the small hut where his wife, Lizzie, was struggling to bring their son or daughter into the world. He had wanted to stay with Lizzie, but his sister-in-law, Eileen, had shooed him out into the darkness away from his beloved wife. Callum had tried to insist that he stay, but Lizzie had squeezed his hand as she nodded to him that she would be fine. 

Callum knew that Lizzie was afraid - the fall this afternoon and the vicious kick from a Nietzschean guard had brought on her labour early, and she was terrified that she would lose this baby, that the baby would be born dead. 

The guard has just laughed at Lizzie's agonised cries as she writhed on the dirty ground holding onto her swollen belly. If it hadn't been for his brother, Stephen, holding him back Callum would have died trying to kill the guard with his bare hands. Instead, with Stephen at his side, he had carried Lizzie back to their home whispering soothing words trying to calm his terrified wife, whilst at the same time trying to calm his own panic at the agonising pain Lizzie was suffering. 

Lizzie had been in labour for over ten hours, and he was starting to get worried. Callum sighed to himself - Lizzie, being Lizzie, had refused to go to the camp clinic saying that people only went there to die, and she wouldn't have her child born there. Her sister had tried to persuade her too, but Lizzie had stubbornly refused. In the end, they had both given up and made her as comfortable as they could on an old mattress and a pile of blankets. He had heard her cry out many times in pain and he had jumped to his feet desperate to be with her, to hold her and comfort her. But Lizzie had told him that she would be fine, that he should wait outside until their child was born. 

Callum couldn't help being frightened for Lizzie - she was so delicate and petite, and her health was always frail mainly due to a lack of nutritional food, and more often than not the total absence of food completely. Callum tried his best, but times were hard, work was scarce and money and food were even scarcer, and their Nietzschean masters seemed to get crueler by the day. 

He had questioned the wisdom of bringing a child into this cruel and unforgiving world many times - every time they had lost a child, four in total. It seemed like sorrow had become second nature to them, and they had both cried so many tears over their lost babies. And Callum was terrified that this time, childbirth would steal the love of his life away from him. He knew he couldn't live without Lizzie, knew that he would die of a broken heart if anything happened to her. 

But Lizzie, his beautiful Lizzie, was determined, so desperate for a child of her own, and he could refuse her nothing, even if it meant more tears and heartbreak. Callum smiled to himself as he remembered watching her on many occasions playing with his brother's child, Brendan, and her own sister's twins, Declan and Siobhan. Her usually pale face had been flushed and alive as she laughed with the children, making up games to keep them occupied. Lizzie, he knew, had a huge capacity for love. She deserved a child of her own to love, cherish and protect. 

Callum looked back up to the sky lost in his thoughts. He was jolted out of his thoughts by Lizzie's loud cry, a scream that seemed to echo around the camp. Determined not to be put off this time, he jumped to his feet running towards their hut. As he neared the hut, Callum heard a different type of cry - a small, keening wail that seemed to build up to a crescendo. 

He ran into Eileen, who was smiling broadly. "You have a son," she slapped him on the back. "He's tiny, but as you just heard," she jerked her head towards the back of the hut. "His lungs aren't. And he's making his presence known." She kissed him gently on the cheek. "But he's beautiful Callum." 

Callum returned the kiss. "And Lizzie?" he asked anxiously. "Is Lizzie OK?" 

"Yes she's fine. Exhausted, but fine," Eileen smiled. "They both are." 

Callum grinned widely. "Thanks Eileen," he kissed her again, hugging her hard. " For everything." 

"You're welcome," Eileen returned the hug. "Now go visit with your family," she shooed him towards the back of the hut. "I'll come back later to see how they're doing," she picked up a bundle of stained blankets and a bowl as she made her way towards the door. 

Callum grinned at Eileen again before creeping to the back of the hut. He looked down at his sleeping wife for a moment, then looked up to the ceiling silently thanking whoever up there protected them. Slumping down to his knees, Callum leaned down kissing Lizzie gently as he brushed a strand of damp blonde hair from her forehead. "Hi," he whispered. 

Lizzie opened her blue eyes. "Hi," she smiled tiredly. "We have a beautiful son," she looked up at Callum, her pale eyes filling with tears. "We have a son."

"I know," Callum replied as he wiped at his own eyes. This time, both their tears were tears of joy, not sorrow. They had a child of their own at last. 

"Do you want to meet him?" Lizzie asked as she reached up touching his face, her fingers wiping at his tears. Callum could only nod, not being able to think of anything to say. Lizzie smiled up at her husband as she shifted slightly, turning down her blanket, to reveal a small bundle, wrapped in a dirty blanket, nestled at her side. "Say hello to your father," she whispered to the tiny baby. "He's waited so long for you," she looked back up to Callum. "We both have," she offered the baby to Callum. 

Callum stared in awe at his son as he carefully lifted the baby into his arms. He looked down at the new life they had created - tiny and delicate, his son wriggled and twitched in his arms. Wisps of blonde hair covered his tiny head, and when he opened his eyes, they were an icy pale blue. His new son blew bubbles as he gurgled contentedly, his small hands waving in the air. He yawned and Callum couldn't help softly laughing. "He's so tiny," he whispered as he gently touched his son's pale skin. 

"He'll grow," Lizzie protested with a frown. 

"I know," Callum chuckled. "Oh Lizzie. He's beautiful. Just perfect," he sat down next to Lizzie grabbing her hand and squeezing gently. "Just like his mother." He turned back to his now dozing son. "Have you decided on a name?" Callum dragged his eyes away from his son. 

"I thought we could call him Seamus. After your father," she squeezed Callum's hand back. "And Zelazny after my father." 

"Seamus Zelazny Harper," Callum murmured to himself. "It's a good name," he decided. Callum stroked Lizzie's face gently. "You look tired. You had a busy night," he grinned happily. Lizzie grinned back at him. "Why don't you go to sleep," Callum encouraged. "I just need to show Seamus something. We won't be long. OK?" 

"Mmmm," Lizzie shifted as Callum carefully tucked the blankets around her. "Just don't get into any trouble. You boys," she murmured closing her eyes as she descended into a peaceful sleep. 

Satisfied that Lizzie was alright, Callum crept out of the hut, Seamus cradled carefully in his arms. Gingerly removing his jacket, he wrapped it around his tiny son's blanket to ensure that he was kept warm against the cool night air. Wide awake again and wriggling in his father's arms, Seamus was once again blowing bubbles happily. 

Callum smiled happily to himself - nothing could or would ever take this feeling or this moment away from him - he was holding his son. He vowed, then and there, that he would love, cherish and protect his son until death. His son - he felt like screaming with joy, and he grinned broadly at his foolishness. 

Instead he turned Seamus up to towards the sky. Tears sprang to his eyes - one lone star shone through the murkiness. "Look Seamus," Callum whispered. "A wishing star." Seamus continued to gurgle happily. "That's where you belong," he murmured as he cradled his small son in his arms. "I didn't get there," he whispered. "But my wish tonight is that one day you will. That one day Seamus Zelazny Harper will live amongst the stars." 

Callum stood silent, cradling his baby son, as he stared up towards the sky, up towards the wishing star. 

THE END

  
Views to eryn.grant@ntlworld.com 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  



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